


i've never fallen from quite this high

by BeesKnees



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Abuse of Praise Kink, Alpha Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bond Breaking, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Bond, Omega Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Prompt Fill, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: “Bond management is one of the most lucrative parts of our business, Mr. Copley," Merrick says. “It funds a great deal of our other research. We want to test our serum on them to see if administering it to one party will break the bond entirely.""You can't be suggesting–" Copley begins, looking between Nicky and Joe.___After Kozak dissolves Nicky's mating bond to Joe, Keane forcibly claims him. Their rescue can't come fast enough.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Keane/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 48
Kudos: 727





	i've never fallen from quite this high

“They're mated.”

Coming up from all the chemicals is like moving through sludge. Nicky's body has always seemed to have a little more trouble purging chemicals than Andy's or Joe's. In this case, he's aware of people talking around him, but his body is still too heavy to do anything – even open his eyes.

“Why is that relevant?” Copley, Nicky thinks. 

“Bond management is one of the most lucrative parts of our business, Mr. Copley.” It's that little fucker that stabbed Joe – Merrick, Nicky remembers. “It funds a great deal of our other research. But it can be hard to come across human volunteers to test our product – especially when most religions still condemn bond breaking as immoral.”

There's an awkward pause. Nicky manages to flutter his eyelids. 

“But you know your serum works,” Copley answers. 

“We know it works when it's administered to both parties,” Kozak supplies. “We've been wanting to test if administrating it to one party would break the bond entirely.”

“You can't be suggesting--” Copley sounds aghast.

“We have rape victims who get claimed and don't know where their new 'mate' is,” Merrick says, gearing up for another spiel. “We have Omegas who willingly entered a partnership but now are abused and are trying to stay away from an Alpha who would never agree to dissolve their half of the bond. We want to do better by those people. This is just another area we can learn from them on.” 

“I don't think--” Copley tries to say again. Nicky gets his eyes open. The three of them aren't looking at him, and Nicky is able to tilt his head to see Joe strapped to a table on the right. It's different than Nicky's, and that's telling. Nicky's has stirrups, his legs spread wide. Joe takes a moment longer than usual to look over at him and when he does, there's a deep furrow of concern grooved in his forehead. 

“I don't care what you think, Copley,” Merrick cuts him off. “Dr. Kozak, focus these two on bond management experimentation first. We'll switch focus when Copley and Keane bring us the other two.”

“Nicolo,” Joe says, his voice so low that it could almost have gone unheard by their captors. There's more fear in his voice, though, than Nicky has heard in a long, long time, and Nicky feels a little nauseous with it. 

“Let's get started then,” Kozak says, crossing the room to come near them again. “Send in Keane, would you, Mr. Merrick?”

The door opens and Copley starts to protest again, but his words disappear when the door closes once more. 

Kozak is somewhere behind Nicky, moving things about. He can't see her, but Joe can if he strains enough. 

“Stay away from him,” Joe growls, Alpha aggression seeping into every word. Joe never uses that tone. Even when he does, it's usually because Nicky's asked for it in bed. Joe is always the first to go on tangents about how secondary sex characteristics are not an excuse to become an asshole.

Kozak plants a hand on the side of Nicky's head, holding him in place. Joe starts jerking roughly against the bonds that are holding him to the table – such simple things. How strange it is that they're overcome by a bit of fabric. Joe moves it enough that his chair upends and he topples to the floor, landing on his side. But he's still trapped.

Nicky holds desperately to his gaze as Kozak sinks a needle into his neck, piercing through his mating mark – the one change his skin had held over 800 years. Even their immortality had yielded to their love. 

Nicky feels the moment the serum hits his bloodstream. It burns. Nicky convulses against his own bindings, unable to help himself, clamping his eyes shut and his teeth together. His mating mark smooths itself out, disappearing – not unlike their normal healing process, really. He can _smell_ the way his own scent changes, Joe wicking out of his pores, broadcasting him as an available Omega. He hasn't smelled this way since he was a priest. 

In between his legs aches, reaching an unbearable pressure that has him trying to press his legs together as tight as he can. His feet scrabble uselessly against the stirrups because he has so little room to move. 

He's empty. His body has been tricked into purging itself of Joe. Nicky is suddenly so alone in his own skin that he starts crying, unable to help himself. His hormones are fluctuating because of whatever was in the serum, and Nicky feels out of control. They've never known to fear this.

“Nicky.” Joe is saying his name, his own voice bordering on hysterical. “Nicky, look at me.” 

Nicky forces himself to look at Joe. At some point, someone had picked him back up, and he's in his original position. Nicky takes a sweeping glance over Joe and can easily see Joe's mating mark a little above his collarbone. Joe is still drenched in Nicky's scent – the two of them twined together now smells foreign to Nicky. Joe is exuding another scent: a low thrum of comfort, but it's so barely discernible. It's intended to soothe a mate. 

Nicky can't look him in the eye. A louder sob chokes itself in his throat, and Nicky looks away from Joe. There's such a shame burning through him. How could his body have betrayed him like this? How could it have given Joe up so easily? It didn't even feel like he _fought_. 

“Nicky, Nicky, no,” Joe begs, obviously seamlessly in tune with Nicky still – because he upheld his half of their bond. Because he's the better, stronger man and always has been. “Nicky, none of this is your fault.” Joe's voice cracks. “Nicolo, please.”

Nicky refuses to look back at Joe. He wants to make himself small, curl up on himself. He can't even do that with how he's pinned down. His own scent is making him sick.

He startles badly when someone suddenly removes the fabric that had been blanketing his lap. The doctor, again, but also the man who helped Copley capture them – Keane. He's exuding a steady Alpha scent that Nicky had barely noticed when they had gotten off the plane. Now, it speaks to something inside of Nicky, something that is asking whether Keane would be _good, protect, fertile._

Nicky's heart is jackrabbiting in fear as he tries to fight the two of them, twisting about in their hold as Joe screams curses so foul they become a sort of poetry. 

“Make sure to knot and mark him,” Kozak instructs as she begins to take notes – as if this is the most mundane of observations instead of Nicky's soul being halved. 

If Keane has concerns about taking Nicky as a mate, he doesn't voice them. He sidles in between Nicky's legs, unzips his pants, and takes himself in hand.

“Can I get him pregnant?” Keane asks as he strokes himself.

“I don't know,” Kozak answers. “We'll use that for data as well.”

Nicky sobs. 

“Get away from him, you son of a fuck,” Joe spits. His tone reverberates with Alpha assertion, a clear challenge. Underneath Keane's touch, Nicky's body shivers in confusion at being the source of conflict between two powerful Alphas.

Keane doesn't pay any mind to Joe. He guides himself in between Nicky's legs, managing to pop the head in but not much else. Nicky clenches up in pain, unable to help himself. He's not slick enough to take anyone and he doesn't want this – doesn't want anyone besides Joe –

“I can't breach him,” Keane reports. “He's resisting like a mated Omega still.” 

Good, Nicky thinks, viciously, savagely. Finally, his body is doing something to show that he's loyal to Joe. It's rejecting Keane.

Kozak hums.

“Let's try inducing a heat,” she suggests. Nicky's stomach plummets.

“No,” he begs even though the time for requests for mercy has long since come and gone. She'll do whatever she wants, and Nicky knows this.

Still.

“No!” Nicky shouts, struggling when Kozak puts the needle against his arm. He tries to jerk away from her the best that he can, but Keane holds his arm in place and Kozak plunges more chemicals into his body. 

Nothing happens for a second, and Nicky is foolish enough to hope this won't work on him. 

It starts with his skin prickling with awareness, raising up and feeling sensitive. _No,_ Nicky pleads with himself. _No, no, no. Not this, please._ He feels the flush spread over his skin as he becomes too warm quickly, almost unbearably so. He shifts uncomfortably against his makeshift bed, that heat reaching between his legs with a boiling intensity. He's suddenly wetter than he's ever been in his life, an itch in his pelvis so pervasive that it's all Nicky can think about it. His little Omega dick is rock hard. 

The worst is the smells. He's leaking desperation into the air, a welcoming call for any Alpha in the area to come and fuck him, to claim him. Instinctively, he still tries to find Joe's scent, but it's drowned out by Keane directly next to him, who is staking claim.

Nicky feels hysterical – his body is thrumming and he's trying to hang onto his thoughts with threadbare attachment.

All he has to do is not come. Keane can't claim him if he doesn't come while Keane's in him. He's lived through this before, he tries to remind himself. It was expected that priests would spend heats alone in contemplation and humiliation before God, and Nicky had done this for 15 years of his first life. But that was such a long, long time ago, and Nicky is no longer used to denying himself during a heat. And those years of penance never featured an Alpha so ready to use his body against him.

He tries to breathe, tries to think of his meditations--

Keane touches his dick, stroking him with a sure hand. Nicky's thoughts fly apart as he's submerged in _sensation._ He mewls, pushing his hips into Keane's hand, dick twitching, slick dripping audibly onto the floor beneath them.

“Good boy,” Keane tells him, the Alpha undertone of his voice comforting Nicky. _I'm good,_ Nicky thinks, drunk with pleasure. _I'm being good – no, no. I'm being bad. Bad. This isn't Joe._ His scent twangs with distress, fighting against the thick arousal.

He tries to reach out for Joe, but there's nothing there. Underneath everything, he can just barely smell Joe – just a faint note of hurt and nothing else. Joe isn't even trying to talk to him or to threaten Keane. _Bad,_ Nicky tells himself again. _It's because you're being bad._

He starts crying again even as he's fucking up against Keane's hand. His body is pleased and purring, and his heart is broken.

Nicky comes, shouting.

“There you go,” Keane says, praising him as he pumps him through his orgasm, milking him. Nicky doesn't even go soft. 

Keane shifts so that he's back between Nicky's legs, and Nicky is too tired, too dazed to know what he's supposed to be doing anymore. Keane presses inside of him, and it's all neat glide. He's bigger than Joe, and Nicky arches up at first, uncomfortable and delighting at the same time. He's never taken another Alpha besides Joe. 

“I'm in,” Keane confirms to Kozak. 

Nicky is still crying and trying to grind down against Keane at the same time. Keane hushes him, pets at his hips. Nicky preens and Nicky knows he's being tricked: Keane doesn't give a shit about him. He's just playing at being the good Alpha so Nicky's body gives further to him. And it works. 

Keane starts out with slow, deep thrusts that are obviously intended to pleasure Nicky more than himself at first. He keeps brushing his fingers over Nicky's dick, thumbing underneath the head – just a hint of touch without being overstimulating. It's fucking perfect.

“Nicky.” Joe's voice pierces through everything like Nicky's been stabbed. “Nicky, please don't come.” Even now, Joe's not commanding. He's absolutely begging. His voice is broken, and Nicky can tell that he's crying too. 

It's such a simple request. Nicky digs his fingers hard into his palms until it hurts, bites on his own tongue until he tastes blood – anything to distract him from the way that the heat is building at the base of his spine again, tugging at everything inside of him. _You're betraying Joe if you do this,_ Nicky tries to think through his heat haze. _You're disgusting if you do this._

Keane tilts his hips up and begins to pound into his prostate with every upward thrust. The persistence of it stuns Nicky. His eyes fly open as he looks blindly up at the ceiling, mouth open as he moans and moans and moans.

“Let go, baby,” Keane commands. “Be good for me.” He wraps a hand around Nicky's cock again, stroking him from root to tip, and that's all Nicky can take. He comes again, hips snapping upward as he writhes underneath Keane. He makes a mess of them both. He's still coming when he feels Keane's knot inflate, locking them together when Keane floods him with come as well.

For the first time, Keane leans into him, turns Nicky's head methodically to the side, and bites down hard on his neck, puncturing through the skin effortlessly to create a new mating mark. Nicky sobs. He comes again.

He closes his eye and turns his face away from both Keane and Joe, trying to will himself away. Joe's presence and scent was always like a blanket to Nicky – comfort personified. Keane's is like being buried alive. It commands Nicky to submit. 

Kozak and Keane are talking again, but Nicky doesn't listen. He doesn't care what they have to say. At some point Kozak asks Joe something, and Joe is hysterical, screaming all manners of curses at her. Nicky is supposed to comfort him, but he doesn't know how anymore.

Eventually, something cold hits Nicky's bloodstream, sending him fully unconscious. He's never been so relieved to be drugged before.

…

“Andy,” Booker whispers. “I've made a mistake.”

They'll never forgive him. Booker doesn't doubt that. But this isn't what he and Copley agreed on. Maybe some part of Booker had always known it was a bad idea, but it had made so much sense when he and Copley had discussed it – a benefit for everyone. Minimal discomfort for Booker and Andy and Joe and Nicky, and maybe an end to it for those who were suffering, and longer lives for those who deserved it.

Some part of Book had always known that if he really believed what he was saying, he would have asked Andy, Joe, and Nicky first. Instead, he had made excuses about how they wouldn't understand, how Andy's need for privacy would blind her to the potentiality of what science could do these days. She would understand when it was done – when they could be free. And so would Joe and Nicky when they could see the sorts of diseases they could help heal.

But when he had checked in with Copley, they had both realized that this wasn't the grand future they had planned. Merrick wasn't going to help them.

“You should run, Booker,” Copley had warned.

“I can't,” Booker had answered. Nicky and Joe are his brothers. 

He confesses to Andy. It's the hardest thing he's done in his immortal life.

…

With Copley's help, they set their own trap and are able to almost effortlessly storm Merrick's headquarters. 

Booker's heart is in his throat as they enter the lab where Joe and Nicky are being kept. He's consoled himself with imagining how much grief Joe and Nicky are giving the scientists – by how they'll probably just be jovially pleased when Andy, Book, and Nile show up, because surely they have to know that they're coming to save them, right? 

But when Booker passes through the door, the scene is far worse than anything he could have ever imagined in his wildest nightmares. 

Joe is strapped to an innocuous-looking gray chair that also has bindings for his legs, his torso propped up just a little. There's an IV in his arm and he has a bit of blood on his bare chest, but he looks otherwise unharmed when they pass through the doors.

On the other side of the room is Nicky. Instead of one of the chairs, he's in an actual hospital-like bed, chains attached to his wrists and ankles to keep him from moving too much, but he's facing _away_ from Joe purposefully, clad only in a thin paper gown.

Booker can't remember the last time that Nicky and Joe weren't seeking each other.

Only belatedly does Booker realize the smell is off in the room. He's a Beta, which means that he's not always cued into the signals that the others give off through their scents. But he's been around Nicky and Joe long enough to know that they should be near indistinguishable from one another. 

Joe smells the same. Nicky doesn't. 

Booker turns, confused, to look at Andy, who has a shellshocked expression on her face that Booker isn't sure he's ever seen before.

She moves to Joe and undoes his bindings, and he sits up, mechanically. They all expect him to rush to Nicky's side and be the one to help get his chains off. But Joe sits there as if he doesn't know what to do until Nile gives in and goes to unlock Nicky. He jerks away from her a little but doesn't otherwise move.

“Where's Keane?” Joe asks suddenly, his voice entirely lifeless. It doesn't suit him.

“Keane?” Andy repeats. 

“Head of security,” Copley supplies over the comms. “He's in the penthouse with Merrick still, I believe.”

Andy nods. She hands Joe his shirt and a gun and then walks over to where Nicky has only curled up further on the bed. She runs a hand gently through his hair, and they all watch as he flinches again. She says something to him, so low that Booker can't hear her, but Nicky still doesn't move.

Booker's fairly certain he's going to throw up. He just wanted – he wanted an end from all this grief, all this pain. He was just so tired of seeing the ways that mankind found to hurt itself, how weak love and friendship had seemed in the face of any amount of pain. He was tired of being alone. He was tired of watching Andy hurt. He was tired of dreaming of Quynh drowning.

But this – this isn't what he wanted. This isn't what he meant. Of course he's been flush with envy watching Nicky and Joe live their immortality with an ease that stemmed from a love that was utterly unlike anything Booker had ever seen before. But he'd never wanted to tarnish that in any way.

But he did. He broke the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He's a part of the sick, twisted part of the world. 

“Book,” Andy commands. “Take Nicky down to Copley. We'll go finish with Merrick.” 

Booker's throat constricts. He can't breathe and he's sure he's going to pass out for a moment. How can she ask this of him? How is he ever supposed to look Nicky or Joe in the eye again? 

“Andy,” Booker says, his voice a croak.

“Get him out of here,” Andy repeats, brooking no argument. _This is your mess. Help clean it up._ He's the only other non-Alpha in the group. His scent is the only one whose isn't going to be triggering right now. Booker looks helplessly over at Joe, but he's just checking over his gun, his jaw a tight line.

“Let's move,” Andy instructs to Nile and Joe. They follow after her. Booker takes another moment, an additional pause, a wary breath, and finally crosses over to Nicky. He takes Nicky's clothes with him.

“Nicky,” Booker says quietly. “Mon frère. Let's get you dressed. Come here.” Nicky opens his eyes and looks up at Booker, and Booker has never seen so little in Nicky's eyes before. He can tease Joe all he wants for Joe's ridiculous overtures about them, but Nicky's eyes really do reflect an awful lot. 

All the same, Nicky sits up and allows himself to be maneuvered into his jeans and then his shirt. There is a mess between his thighs that Booker very pointedly doesn't allow himself to think about as he kneels to put Nicky's shoes back on. Nicky doesn't stand when they're done, so Booker gently takes his hand and leads him back out of the room. He moves slowly and quietly, gun fixed in the other hand even though everything should be clear. Nicky doesn't make a single sound as he follows, almost aimless. 

He gets Nicky all the way to the street where Copley is parked and waiting for then, but as soon as Nicky sees Copley, he freezes up. He curses low – and creatively, in Booker's opinion – in Italian. 

“He's helping us, Nicky,” Booker tries to reassure him. “He's our getaway driver.” Pauses and then adds, for what he knows are entirely selfish reasons: “He knows he made a mistake.”

Nicky looks over at Booker, eyebrow raised with doubt and disdain. He looks awake for the first time since they found him. And he gives almost immediately, because he _trusts_ Booker. He gets into the backseat of the car, tossing one final insult at Copley.

“We're back, boss,” Booker reports. The radio echoes back with an affirmation from Andy. The background is filled with the clatter of gunfire.

Nicky goes still again almost immediately. He falls back asleep with his head on Booker's shoulder, and Booker isn't sure if he's ever hated himself more. The car is full of Nicky's off scent – what Booker is forcing himself to accept is another Alpha on Nicky, amplified by the tacky smell of Nicky coming off a heat. Booker can't meet Copley's gaze in the rearview mirror.

Nicky's only been asleep a few minutes when he suddenly jolts awake. He sucks in air with a shrieking gasp that Booker has come to associate with their resurrections. Nicky's hand claws at where his mating mark is – it goes red for a moment and then smooths out. His scent changes so sharply that even Booker can tell right away – whoever was on the other end of that bond is dead now. Nicky smells as such: an available Omega whose body is still letting go of a lost Alpha. It's not right.

Nicky starts crying, big gulping sobs, his fingers pressed against his smooth neck. 

“Mon frère, mon frère,” Booker says gently, forcing himself to comfort Nicky even though he, himself, is the Judas that did this to him. He rubs a hand up and down Nicky's back, and Nicky leans back into him, crying until he exhausts himself into falling back asleep. 

That's how they're situated when Andy, Nile, and Joe return. Nile looks unsteady as she clambers in next to Booker, squeezing tight so there's enough room for Joe. Joe gets in, blood spattered, and looks, as is his way, for Nicky. Booker watches the muscle in his jaw jump. His mating mark is the same as always.

…

“Nicky, honey.”

When Nicky becomes aware of himself next, Andy is in front of him. She's petting her fingers through his hair with a gentleness that he hasn't seen in a long, long time. Maybe since before Quynh. He looks around a little dazedly and realizes that he doesn't know where he is or how he got here. He's seated on a bed, Andy kneeling in front of him, Booker by the door.

“Where's Joe?” he asks on instinct.

“Do you want me to go get him?” Andy asks.

“No,” Nicky answers immediately, that reassuring numbness blanketing him once again. His clothes smell like him and Joe. He still smells like Keane even if the smell is starting to fade. He thinks in between his legs still ache but part of him knows he's making that up and everything has healed by now.

“Is he okay?” Nicky asks without fully meeting Andy's gaze.

“He's in the living room with Nile,” Andy answers. Nicky nods and almost feels like he can't stop. 

“Nicky,” Andy says, and she's using her gentle voice again, her fingers at the side of his face to try and draw his attention. “You need a shower. You'll feel better after a shower. Can Booker and I help you?”

Nicky stares at her. The question requires an answer, but his thoughts start to loop. No, of course not. He doesn't want either of them to look at him. But the idea of doing anything on his own right now – standing up and moving to the bathroom and having to undress himself is all too much. He can smell the mess that Keane and he made in between his thighs, and it's threatening to make him sick. His body has never been such an enemy before.

“Let us help you,” Andy says. “You can send us away, but you don't have to do this on your own, Nicky.”

Nicky nods, because it's easier to trust Andy. It's almost a relief to just hand things over to her and trust that she'll fix everything. 

“All right, honey,” Andy says. She kisses his forehead and then pulls him to his feet. 

It turns out to be a good thing that he agreed. As soon as he sees his plain neck in the mirror, he's ensnared by the sight of it. He runs his fingers over it just once and then throws up in the sink. He lets himself disassociate again and is barely aware as Andy starts to carefully undress him. They get him into the shower and Booker holds him up and Andy washes him down with a clinical sort of care – they've all done this for one another before. 

When they're finished, they put him in some of Booker's clothes – the most neutral scent in the whole place. Nicky can almost pretend nothing is wrong if buries his face into the shirt he's wearing. 

“Can you eat something?” Andy asks. Even though Nicky knows it's a suggestion that he should eat, he shakes his head. He curls back up on the bed, making himself small. Andy sidles up beside him on the bed and wraps her arms around him. Nicky lets her. She feels safe – steady, familiar Alpha to all of them. 

He falls asleep, deep enough that he doesn't dream of anything.

He wakes briefly, several hours later to shouting.

“I could rip your throat out with my teeth and it wouldn't be the half of what you deserve, you--” The yelling dissolves into Arabic.

Nicky blinks sleepily and feels Andy stir at his back.

“Joe is upset,” he says, only half awake. 

“Yeah,” Andy answers, carding her fingers through his hair again. 

“You should stop him,” Nicky murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut again. “He regrets the things he says when he's angry like that.”

She does get up off the bed but by the time she reaches Joe, Nicky's fallen back asleep. 

…

When he wakes again, it's late morning and watery sunlight is streaming in through the windows. Andy is at his back again, but he can tell she's already awake.

“Breakfast isn't optional,” she tells him and points to the tray that's been left on the table beside the bed. He finds that he is hungry so he sits up and obediently eats the pancakes that have been left for him.

“Booker didn't make these,” Nicky observes in between mouthfuls.

“No,” Andy answers. “Nile did.” 

“Where is Booker?” Nicky asks.

“Booker sold us out to Copley,” Andy says matter of factly. Nicky pauses in between bites to look at her. He knows that he's not processing things correctly because he doesn't feel anything despite the magnitude of what she just told him. 

“Booker wanted to find a way to end things,” Andy continues. “Copley wanted to help find a way to prolong human life by ending the worst of diseases. That's why you and Joe wound up in Merrick's lab.”

“Joe was yelling at Booker last night,” Nicky surmises.

“Yeah,” Andy confirms. “Book left after that.” 

He should feel something – anything. Anger at Booker for being so foolish as to agree to such things and hurt on Joe's behalf. Upset that Booker felt such desperation. But there's just this yawning emptiness inside of him that Nicky is both afraid of and comforted by. It's too much to feel all these things. They will destroy him.

“I let them take me from Joe,” Nicky says, frowning at his plate.

“I'm pretty sure that's the last thing you let happen,” Andy says with such certainty she sounds angry – she is, Nicky knows, but it's not with him.

“I didn't fight hard enough,” Nicky says. “I did not fight well enough, and Joe knew. He saw it in me. I could feel the hurt in him even after. He asked me to fight, and I could not.” He trails his fingers over the blank swath of his neck once again.

“The mark isn't everything, Nicky,” Andy says softly. 

Nicky can't help the way that his gaze falls to her unblemished neck. She and Quynh had both been Alphas and no matter how they had tried to mark each other, it had never stuck. Their scents always broadcast that they were unmated. 

“Losing it doesn't change how much you love him or how much he loves you,” Andy says. “Doesn't take away your centuries together or the number of odes to Nicolo's ass that Joe has written. And I can fucking guarantee you that he wasn't upset with you for not fighting. He was upset with himself for not even having the chance to defend you.” She pauses. “You know that, Nicky. Your hurt just isn't letting you see that right now.”

Nicky nods ever so slightly. 

“He's not avoiding you,” Andy continues. “He's waiting for you. He thought his presence would be traumatic for you, so that's why I'm here. But when you're ready, Nicky, he's on the other side of that door.”

“Will you get him?” Nicky asks quietly. He's scared of seeing Joe – a new first for him like this, truly. But the idea of not knowing when he'll see him again is worse. With everything else they've weathered, they simply have to go through this too. Have to.

“Sure,” Andy says, unwinding herself from the bed. She pauses to kiss the side of his head. “We all love you, Nicky.”

“Aww, boss,” Nicky answers, managing something of a crooked smile. “You know I always love it when you are a buttercup.”

“Only for you, Nicky,” she answers as she opens the door. “Only for you.”

She steps out and the door closes again. Nicky remains where he is, letting eternities pass between seconds before the door opens and there's Joe standing the door way. His perfect Joe – wearing a look of raw sorrow. His eyes gleam with that pain in a way that is tragically beautiful 

Joe crosses the room in two long strides and drops to his knees in front of Nicky. He presses his forehead against Nicky's knees and takes Nicky's hands in own, leaving them in Nicky's lap.

“Nicolo, my Nicolo,” Joe pleads. “Perdonami.” He breaks as soon as the last word is out, sobbing wretchedly. Nicky untangles his hands from Joe's so that he can wrap his arms around Joe's shoulders and lean into him, his head resting on top of Joe's. His own hot tears track down the back of Joe's neck.

They hold each other like that for eons. When he's done crying, Joe just rests his head in Nicky's lap, and Nicky pulls back enough so that he can idly touch Joe, tracing his high cheekbones and the line of his beard, the whorl of his ear. Pausing only when he reaches Joe's mating mark.

Joe hiccups a breath.

“Nicky,” he says, looking up. “I'm so sorry.”

“Joe,” Nicky answers, strained. “You are the last person to be apologizing in this.”

“I couldn't do anything,” Joe says, his voice splintering. “I've never seen you in such distress and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even comfort you. All I could think was that any word from me was a reminder of what was happening.” 

“You asked me to fight harder.” 

Joe looks confused for a moment and then seems to realize what Nicky is referring to: _Nicky, please don't come._

“I shouldn't have done that,” Joe says, voice catching. “I shouldn't have put that on you. I knew you didn't want to, that you were already doing everything you could.”

“I came three times,” Nicky says faintly, fading from the present for a moment.

“It doesn't matter,” Joe says, desperate. He straightens up on his knees so that he can hold Nicky's face in his palms. His rings are warm, and Nicky closes his eyes for an instant, turning his face into Joe's right hand.

“It matters to me,” Nicky answers. 

“It took almost a thousand years for anyone to even find a way to interrupt our bond,” Joe says, soft. His fingers pet Nicky's face. “That's all this is, Nico. An interruption. A bump. We'll be here and together a thousand years from now and we won't even remember their names. How many tricks did it take them, my love, to get your body to lie to you? How many drugs and how much force? And even then, your heart, your soul, your mind were mine. You held onto those with everything you were, Nico. So what do I care about the _tricks_ that were played on you? This body is my home.” He reaches for Nicky's hands and kisses his palms. “I am the one who makes this body sing.”

Nicky looks at Joe with tears in his eyes, but he doesn't start to cry again.

“I love you, Yusuf,” Nicky says, almost unable to get the words out because of how much emotion he feels.

“You are my everything, Nicolo,” Joe answers, leaning in to rest his forehead against Nicky's. They share breath for a few moments, still mired with emotion but perhaps as certain as they've been since they woke up in the back of an armored van.

“I need you to make me yours again,” Nicky whispers eventually. “I need his smell off me. I need to be surrounded by you.”

Joe hesitates, and Nicky's scent instantly tinges sour. 

“No, no,” Joe says, reaching for Nicky again. “I just... It's so soon, Nico. I don't want to take you just to take you. Everything between us should be from joy.” He kisses the corner of Nicky's mouth gently. 

Nicky knows that Joe has a point. Physically, he might be healed. Emotionally and mentally, this one is going to take some time. Sex, now or later, isn't going to change that. Joe reclaiming him isn't going to make the rest of it go away.

But: “How can I find any comfort in a body that doesn't know you?” 

Joe hesitates again, and if he says no once more, Nicky won't press. He's not the only one recovering from this. 

“You're sure, Nicolo?” Joe asks, pulling back so that he can Nicky's face entirely. Nicky nods.

“I will tell you to stop if I grow uncomfortable,” Nicky murmurs, a promise that isn't hard to keep between the two of them. It's a standing agreement, and one that has certainly happened before – for both of them. 

Joe nods. He strokes the back of his hand over Nicky's face again and then leans in to kiss him, the touch still light. He maneuvers them slowly back onto the bed, arranging them both on their sides so they're facing once another. They laid like this a lot when they first started touching each other – as if they could prolong every physical moment or perhaps so that one wouldn't slip away if he wasn't watching the other. 

Joe is slow like that now, obviously intending to make Nicky melt. Joe kisses him, lazy, his fingers petting at the side of Nicky's face and through his hair. No matter how desperate he is, Joe is like this: always making sure that Nicky knows how very loved he is. 

Nicky, admittedly, is still a little tense at first. He keeps waiting to be swept up in the crush of a memory from yesterday, that sickening amount of arousal with Keane manipulating him.

Instead, Nicky is reminded more of their actual first times together, because Nicky had been exceedingly nervous then as well. He'd wanted Joe so bad, so much – more than what he knew what to do with. Even after they had started sleeping together, Nicky had been reluctant about letting Joe penetrate and claim him. He'd taken everything else with a voracious hunger, but that last step had seemed like a final relinquishing of his old life. Joe had let Nicky take him first – something that had deeply surprised Nicky, who had never heard of an Alpha allowing such a thing. It hadn't been long after that that Nicky had realized that he never wanted to be anything other than Joe's. 

It's a feeling that never went away.

So, he twines warmly with Joe now, never feeling safer than when he's in Joe's arms. He slips his hands up underneath Joe's shirt, sighing against Joe's mouth at all that soft skin. He dips his fingers across Joe's belly and up his sides. He teases at his nipples and drags his hands across the shifting muscles of Joe's back. 

Joe sucks lazily at his tongue and then nips at his lower lip, sending a soft shiver down Nicky's spine. 

“Good?” Joe breathes, and Nicky nods, feeling more grounded. The sex isn't necessarily about the sex right now. It's about feeling close to Joe, and this is an exceedingly familiar language they've shared for a long time. And it only reminds Nicky of that – that he has this closeness with another human being where he can unflinchingly stand before Joe and be unjudged for everything that he is. That Andy is right: mark or not, Joe is his. And that Joe is right: this will be hard, but they'll get through it together.

They undress each other, letting slips of clothing collect beside the bed. Once they're naked, Joe meanders down Nicky's body, his lips a soft comfort against each inch of exposed skin. He kisses a few of Nicky's freckles – the ones he's always proclaimed to be his favorites, and Nicky can't help but smile a little. There's one on the jut of his left hip that Joe spends a particularly long time with tonight, nipping until the skin underneath it is just a little red.

“I do love you,” Nicky murmurs, brushing his hand through Joe's hair, which is already a bit mussed.

“And I you, Nicolo,” Joe answers, catching Nicky's hand so he can kiss his fingertips. 

Nicky is nearly relaxed by the time Joe swallows around his cock. He inhales audibly, lifting his hips just a little. He keeps his eyes fixated on Joe the entire time. Joe is unrushed the whole time, perpetually looking back at Nicky. There is no hurry to any of this, and it simmers low and without desperation, in Nicky's belly. 

Still, Nicky grows wet. Eventually Joe presses his face into the crease of Nicky's thigh and inhales deeply before shifting to press his mouth in between Nicky's legs. He licks at Nicky's hole, tasting the slick that's pooling there. Nicky burns a little hotter, but Joe remains steady, not taking Nicky apart like they both know he can. He teases, perhaps, just a little, but mostly just works his tongue and fingers into Nicky until Nicky is liquid heat against the bed, relaxed and open for Joe. 

Joe shifts back up the bed and rearranges them on their sides again. 

“This okay?” Joe asks from behind him, his mouth right against Nicky's ear, one of his thumbs tracing Nicky's hip.

“Please,” Nicky murmurs. Joe presses carefully into him and Nicky sighs as he comes home. He reaches for the hand Joe has on his hip, twines his fingers with Joe's, and presses it against his own chest.

Their motions are slow, a rocking of their hips that is barely there – no deep, hard thrusts now. 

“My Nicky,” Joe murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of his ear. 

“Yes,” Nicky breathes back – all of him in that answer, not just the Omega part of him that could be satisfied by fucking Joe silly. The entirety of what he is – the bits that Kozak and Keane didn't glimpse, let alone dream of – belongs to the man alongside him.

They stay connected like for a long time. If marking him wasn't the point, Nicky would be happy not to come at all tonight.

But marking him is the point.

So, eventually, Nicky guides their hands back down to his dick, and they stroke him together until Nicky shivers through an orgasm, pushing himself back against Joe. Joe's hips buck a few times, finally gaining a little speed and force. He groans as he comes and then lowers his head and bites Nicky's neck.

For the first time, Nicky moans, pinpricks of tears back in his eyes. Joe stays there, riding out the last of his orgasm, his teeth imprinting on Nicky's skin. 

“My heart,” Joe whispers when he's done, pressing a kiss just below Nicky's ear.

“My love,” Nicky answers back just as softly. He wants to be able to look at Joe again, so he moves, rolling so that they're facing one another once more. Joe presses their foreheads together and searches Nicky's face for any distress. 

Nicky inhales deeply. It'll take some time for him to smell like normal again, but Joe is back in the minutiae of his body, and it's such a comfort. Makes him feel braver for the hardships that are still waiting on the other side of the door for them.

He smiles faintly at Joe and then kisses Joe's mating mark. He lets his lips linger there.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> \-- Short comments  
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> \-- “<3” as extra kudos  
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